‘How dare you talk to me like that, in front of the children!’ Lynette hissed at me, as we had a moment alone in our hotel room.

         ‘Me?!’ I asked, shocked. ‘How about how you were talking to me?!’

         ‘Oh, please, because I’m so rude to you, all the time,’ she rolled her eyes.

         ‘Uh… yeah?’ I frowned. ‘That’s kind of it, yeah.’

         ‘You’re being ridiculous,’ she shook her head. ‘And what was all that talk about glass with Penelope?’

         ‘She asked!’ I defended myself. ‘I was encouraging her curiosity.’

         ‘You were putting ridiculous ideas into their heads,’ she shot back. ‘We both know that girl is never going to work on glass balustrade designs!’

         ‘We do not know that!’ I frowned at my wife. ‘She could do whatever she wants to – that’s the fun part about being a parent.’

         ‘No, the fun part is seeing them succeed at something practical,’ Lynette said. ‘Like becoming a doctor.’

         ‘Okay, well she fainted when Henry skinned his knee last week,’ I rolled my eyes. ‘So we may actually know she isn’t going to be a doctor.’

         ‘A lawyer then!’ Lynette snapped. ‘Something useful to society! Something that will make her mother proud!’

         ‘Glaziers aren’t useful?’ I frowned. ‘Her being a glazier wouldn’t make you proud?’

         She let out a sharp laugh.

         ‘You say such ridiculous things.’

         ‘Maybe,’ I shrugged. ‘But at least I could still be proud of my daughter, even if she wasn’t following my plan for her life.’

         ‘So you’ll be happy when she ends up doing affordable glass repair services local to Melbourne, is that it?’

         ‘Firstly, yes,’ I said. ‘Secondly – this was a two-minute conversation I had with her because her brother liked the sound of the word “glazier”. This is a ridiculous argument.’

         ‘What’s ridiculous is that you still don’t understand how important it is that they don’t disappoint their mother!’ Lynette spat.